


Taraksvasana

by Queerily_kai



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Recovery, Serious talks about feelings, Suicidal Thoughts, Yoga, domestic stucky, retired Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 12:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerily_kai/pseuds/Queerily_kai
Summary: It's been a year since the events of Civil War, and six months since Bucky was awoken from cryo-freeze in Wakanda and came back home to Steve and their house in the mountains. They were finally living their own lives, together and not having to hide.They still had their demons to battle, but they couldn't control their futures. They had a quiet life now, with friends nearby, plans for a vegetable garden, and  yoga. No one would have guessed the former winter soldier would end up obsessed with yoga.





	Taraksvasana

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaboration as part of the 2017 Captain America Reverse Big Bang with art by Starlingzinc and words by Kai.
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr @starlingzinc and @thisqueerlifeofmine

Bucky still woke surprised to find himself in bed with Steve every morning. Little Stevie, who had turned himself into Captain America. Most days, he still felt a twinge of worry when he awoke next to him, memories from 1940 blurring with the present. The neighbor that was suspicious of why they only had one bed, and didn’t seem to believe Bucky’s claims that he slept on the couch, ‘cause the place couldn’t fit two beds. He had heard the word “unnatural” referring to Steve and him too many times for comfort, and there were stories about soldiers being kicked out of the Army for being homosexual. They were the ones that could never find work when they came back home.

He had worried about leaving Steve alone while he went off to fight, that he would show up to serve only to receive a blue ticket, or worse, that he would make it to Germany and end up in one of the camps he had heard rumors about, the ones suspected homosexuals never returned from. Who would protect Steve if he ended up short on cash and decided to try his luck down on the docks, or when he inevitably got himself into trouble at a cafeteria? The little punk needed protection.

It was the same, later, in Europe during the war. When he was a Howling Commando fighting alongside Captain America, he was still worried about Steve, even though he wasn’t little anymore. Bucky had been put through hell before being rescued from Azzano, but he was still worried about what the serum had done to Steve, if it had hurt. Sure, Peggy and the other Howlies were content to turn a blind eye to their relationship, but what if Phillips found out? What if the world found out Captain America was a Fairy?

And then there was the fall, when he watched Steve and the train disappear as he fell, into the cold. The memories after were vague, of being dragged, pain, torture, electric shock. And then forgetting. Being awoken from cryo, pulled from the cold and having his brain wiped and prepped, and then forced to comply as functioning as their puppet became all he knew. 

When he first escaped from Pierce and Rumlow, after saving Steve Rogers, after failing his mission to kill him, Bucky was finally able to pay more attention to the world he now lived in. It didn’t take him long to realize that homosexuality was now legal, accepted, celebrated even, and that made him happy. It took longer however, to figure out why he felt that way. 

Bucky remembered standing in the helicarrier, watching as Steve fell. It was familiar, but backwards. The feeling of helplessness as he watched, standing above. He knew it was an old memory blending with the present, one with too many gaps to make sense, but that it had something to do with his metal arm, and a train. And Captain America too? It had been instinct when he jumped into the Potomac after Steve, diving multiple times into the wreckage before finding him and pulling him to the surface. And then when he saw that Steve was still breathing, he didn’t understand why he was so relieved to know that he was going to be okay. He realized later, as he made his way to a safehouse, that he had no idea who he was, and it was time to find out. 

It was years later, in Bucharest, when everything made sense. Bucky had it figured out by the time he was locked in a glass-and-metal cage, held in restraints. He knew who he was, he was Bucky. He was 98 years old and had been Steve Rogers’ best friend in the 1930’s and 40’s, though that didn’t feel quite right; best friend wasn’t a strong enough word. It didn’t feel right when he remembered the way Steve kept looking at him. So when the words started, read from the red leather book, he was desperate to stop it. He felt more panicked than he had been in the past. This time, it wasn't going to be just another job, they were going to try to take his Steve away from him, and they were going to make him do the dirty work himself. It would be his mission to kill Steve, his little Stevie, his other half. The one he loved. 

When Steve told him later, when they were in the Quinjet on the way to Siberia, that they could live together, and get married, and everyone could know about it, he finally understood how being happy could make someone cry.  
\----------------------

They slipped into a routine that neither of them had ever imagined they could have. The Avengers had essentially retired, but none of them believed it was really over. They were keeping ready for when the world might once again need their help, sparring and talking about strategies.

Steve bought a house upstate, a few hours north of the city in the Adirondacks. He wanted to be alone up there, secluded, but the others followed. It was 2 months before Natasha announced she was looking at a house a few miles away, and then Sam transferred to a VA community center up north and was also living nearby. The quiet, mountain town life was good for all of them. Tony, Vision and Wanda would come up from the city to visit a couple times a month. No one knew exactly where Scott lived, but he would randomly show up at the house and just make himself at home on Steve’s couch some days. 

It was the house Steve brought Bucky back to, when he woke from another 6 months of cryofreeze in Wakanda. T’Challa’s team of scientists worked quickly, waking him up the slightest bit every couple weeks to run brain scans while they spoke the trigger words Hydra had programed into him, forcing him to submit, and comply to orders. They monitored his brain activity, mapping the neurons that were triggered with the words, and then put him back under while they studied data and planned the next test. Eventually, they were able to disrupt the neural pathways, essentially deleting the program and making the words useless. 

They had a normal life in a small mountain town, with neighbors who didn’t bat an eye at the new gay couple up the road. If they were recognized, no one brought it up, understanding the desire for a quiet life. 

\---------------------------------------------------

Steve shifted with a soft moan at Bucky’s side, slowly opening his eyes as he woke up.  
“Morning, babe.” He mumbled, sitting up slightly and looking toward Bucky. “You ok?” he asked, noticing he was staring at the wall in a daze.  
“Yeah.” Bucky answered, shifting his attention to Steve. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking,” Bucky explained. 

Steve nodded in understanding, having woken up in disbelief that this was really his life here with Bucky on more than one occasion. They stretched as they got out of bed, and mumbled at each other occasionally as they moved in and out of the bathroom and kitchen, finally coming together again at the kitchen table, with coffee, toast and fruit. It was part of their routine, that Sam had encouraged. They read the news headlines on Steve’s tablet while they ate, and secretly hoped for some disaster that would signal a return to the action . They didn’t have regrets about retirement, not really, but it would be something to do. Neither of them had adjusted easily to having so much free time. 

They would go for a run, and have a larger second breakfast with eggs and oatmeal after. Steve would paint most mornings, while Bucky sat in an armchair across the room with his laptop, reading up on obscure bits of history and scientific discovery, occasionally reading a section out loud to Steve. 

They made regular trips to the grocery store and library, cooking from scratch and devouring books to fill the time. They spent quiet evenings reading, history for Steve and science fiction for Bucky. They talked about building a patio with a grill, and garden. And they continued training in the basement gym and sparring in the large back yard. Bucky was still feeling antsy though, bored most days. 

 

\----------------  
“So how have you been, Bucky?” Sam asked one evening, looking up from the potato he was peeling. 

“Not bad I guess,” Bucky answered with a shrug. “I had a bad dream a few nights ago, but it’s fine, I slept again after.”

Sam just nodded. “Have you done anything fun lately?” he asked.

“Not really, just been reading a lot, and running with Steve,” Bucky replied, focused on his own potato and sounding bored. 

“You need a hobby,” Natasha announced from the other end of the table. 

“A hobby?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you know, something to do out here in the middle of nowhere. Steve has been painting again, and I became friends with the woman who owns the dance studio in town and she lets me go do ballet after hours. You need a thing too.”

Bucky just raised an eyebrow at her.  
“What is that look for, Barnes?” she snapped.  
“I’m trying to imagine you making friends,” Bucky replied.  
Sam snorted, quickly covering his mouth to hide his laughter before Natasha threw something at him.  
“Seriously Barnes, just try something.” Natasha said with a sigh. “Come do ballet with me, or go to the shooting range with Sam. Build model rockets. learn to crochet. Go birdwatching. Grow vegetables. Anything.”

Sam and Nat kept giving him suggestions throughout the night, with Steve arguing about why half of them were bad ideas. 

“Bucky can learn to play the trumpet as long as he only practices at your house, Sam” Steve chided, “and both of you, stop suggesting things that involve fire.” 

Bucky frowned at that. He had been thinking that learning to spin fire poi sounded kinda fun. 

It was the normal Tuesday night routine that they had slipped into, getting together at Steve and Bucky’s to cook dinner together and then watch movies after eating. Most nights, they argued like family.

\-------------------------

Scott, surprisingly, was the one who suggested Bucky try yoga. They had been lounging on the couches one afternoon, Bucky half lost in thought as Scott flipped back and forth between three different shows. Just one wasn’t enough to hold his attention. Bucky had been fidgeting, and had just changed positions for the third time in five minutes when Scott looked over at him. 

“You alright there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied with a sigh, shifting positions again. “Just bored, and my brain won’t slow down.”

“And you want to run around and do something stupid, but can’t be motivated to actually get up?” Scott finished.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Bucky answered.

“Have you ever tried yoga?” Scott asked.

“Yoga? Like that crazy meditation balance stuff that’s apparently popular now?” Bucky replied confused. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Scott agreed. “But some of it looks kinda cool. Check out this instagram I found.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes as Scott pulled out his phone and moved closer. Scott flipped through the images, pointing out some of the most ridiculous looking ones, where two people were balanced on top of each other in positions that looked impossible.

“I want to try to do some of these.” Scott told him, looking excited. “Let's go do yoga.”

Bucky leaned back onto the couch, away from Scott and tried to watch TV again, ignoring the suggestion. He shifted positions a few times, and then jumped to his feet.  
“Alright.” He agreed, still fidgeting. “Let’s go do yoga.”

 

They went out to the back corner of the yard, Bucky grabbing Steve’s tablet on the way, and sat down in the grass. 

“Have you ever done this?” Bucky asked, typing “crazy yoga poses” into a google image search. 

“No,” Scott replied. “I mean kind of. I tried a couple of these once, and it was… interesting.” 

“Interesting?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I got my leg up, and had my knee like, hooked over my elbow, and Hope walked in and snuck up on me and I fell. With my leg stuck up in my elbow.” He flailed his arms as he explained, almost like he was going to demonstrate.

“And I’m supposed to want to balance on my hands, with you balanced on top of me? You’re not giving me a lot of confidence here.” Bucky argued, on the verge of going back to the couch. 

“Some look easy. Try one by yourself first.” Scott suggested. 

M

“Alright, one.” Bucky agreed with a sigh. “Which one were you doing when you fell? I’ll show you the right way to do it.”

Scott snatched up the tablet, scrolling through the images to find the pose. “This one” he announced, showing Bucky the image. 

The guy was balanced on one leg, opposite leg stretched out straight at his side, foot higher than head, and holding on to his ankle with a straight arm. The opposing arm was straight out to the other side. Bucky studied the image with a nod. He could do it, probably. 

“So what was your knee doing hooked over your elbow? That’s not even part of the pose,” Bucky asked.

“Do you see how high his foot is? That’s overhead!” Scott began to explain. “I thought if I got my arm like under my knee, I could push my leg up more and…. It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

Bucky just rolled his eyes and moved away from Scott to where he had more room to try the pose. 

He picked up his left foot, grabbing his ankle with his left hand, and stuck his right arm out, starting confidently. He easily got his knee to shoulder height, but his knee was still bent, and his foot wasn’t much higher. He struggled to straighten his leg, wobbling slightly as he shifted his right arm, adjusting his balance. He then slid his hand from ankle to calf, adjusting the grip on his leg and finally straightening it out. None of his Hydra training had prepared him for this, he realized. It made him happy.  
“There, I did it,” Bucky announced, words strained as he struggled to hold the position.  
“No, you’re cheating,” Scott replied, criticizing Bucky’s pose. “You should be holding your ankle, not your calf, and your foot’s too low.”

Bucky let his leg drop with a sigh, looking annoyed.  
“Better than falling over and getting tangled in your own arms and legs,” he declared. 

Bucky sat down in the grass again, and picked up the tablet to look for a different pose to try. There had to be at least one he could actually do. He came across a difficult looking one, and paused, trying to work out how you would even get into that position, and decided he was going to master it. Eventually. 

“I’m going to do this one,” he announced, holding out the tablet to Scott. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you can do that,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. 

The guy in the picture was balanced on his hands with straight arms, back arched, knees bent at the highest point and directly above his head. His feet were rested flat on top of his head, toes and face pointed in the same direction. It looked like the kind of pose you would have to be a contortionist to pull off. 

“Well, probably not right now, but I will. Someday,” Bucky explained. He wondered to himself how he had suddenly become obsessed with yoga.

“Ok, then,” Scott replied. “I’m going to find a hard one too, and I bet I’ll master mine before you,” he challenged. 

“In your dreams” Bucky scoffed, and wandered back to the open space again. He spent the next 20 minutes doing handstands, working on finding his center of gravity and balance while upside down, and with his legs stretched out into various positions. After managing to hold a position for a while with both legs bent like a sprinters in the starting block, he sat upright again, and realized how clear his head had been while he was focusing on his body. He hadn’t thought about someone he had killed in nearly an hour. Might be a new record. 

 

\------------------------------

 

They had found him. He had let his guard down, going to the store in the middle of the day more than once, and they caught him on camera, because of course someone was still hunting him down for something he had done in the past 70 years. They caught him in the back corner, five big guys near the swinging doors going into the storeroom. They slapped some sort of a magnet to his metal arm, instantly disabling it, and had him unconscious with some fumes on a handkerchief before reaching the loading dock doors. 

He tried to fight in the few moments he had before the chemical took effect, thrashing his right arm out and kicking at the men who had grabbed him and pulled his arms behind his back. 

“Stop fighting me,” he heard one of the men say, voice sounding distant. He thrashed harder, realizing he was now on a bed, being held down. They must have him in restraints, he realized, trying to kick his feet and break the straps around his legs. 

“Hey, easy,” the voice said calmly. “Calm down, pal.”

“No!” he yelled, twisting his shoulders sharply as he tried again to break out of the restraints. “Just leave me alone!” 

“Bucky! Please, stop,” the voice pleaded. 

Bucky stilled for a moment. Why would they call him that? He was always called soldier. It made no sense. 

“Just wake up,” he heard again, the voice sounding almost desperate now. And then, there was a pressure on his hip, somehow holding him down. 

“It’s just a dream, just wake up,” the voice was louder now, more insistent. It wasn’t making sense. The restraint across his chest loosened and the pressure from his hip was suddenly gone too. Bucky tried again to escape, throwing his body forward. He found he was no longer being held down and came up with plan to get off the bed and run for the open door. He was at the corner of the mattress, ready to jump off of the edge into a run, when he suddenly hit a barricade, throwing him back onto the bed. 

Bucky woke up. He slammed full body into the wall once Steve had stopped trying to hold him down, eyes snapping open as he slammed back onto the bed, bringing him back to reality. He looked over at Steve, and then the wall, and then finally at the ceiling with a long sigh.

“You all right there, Buck?” Steve asked, sounding slightly amused.

“Yeah.” Bucky answered with a groan. “Kidnapped by someone out for revenge. Again.” 

Steve just nodded, recognising the recurring dream. “Where this time?” Steve asked.

“Grocery store. And then strapped down on a bed somewhere,” Bucky answered. “How bad did I hurt you?” He looked guilty as he asked.

“It was a good kick to the shins that woke me up, and then a very near elbow to the face. Bruises have probably healed already.” Steve told him with a shrug, like being woken up by your boyfriend beating you in his sleep was a totally normal thing. It kind of was for them. 

Steve was more of a flailer, often falling in his dreams and reaching out to catch himself. Bucky often became something Dream-Steve could use to climb to safety, and would wake up to Steve crying for help, while gripping Bucky’s arm or shoulder with white knuckles. 

Bucky continued to stare at the ceiling for another moment, and then looked over at Steve with a weak smile. “Putting the bed against the wall like that was a good idea,” Bucky stated. “That was much better than crashing onto the hardwood floor.” 

It wasn’t the first time while that Bucky had tried to escape out of the bed while believing he was dreaming. The last time, he had made it all the way off the mattress and began sprinting when he crashed into the wall, waking up on the floor. Steve stretched a hand out to him, and Bucky crawled back across the bed, curling into his side with his head on Steve’s chest. 

 

“No one is going to make you comply anymore. No one can,” Steve told him, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair rhythmically. 

“But they can try. Someone is still trying to find me, trying to get revenge for what I did,” Bucky replied. 

“Probably, but they won’t be able to. Even if they have the book, the words won’t work anymore.” Steve reminded.

“I’m still a trained killer, even though I have my mind back,” Bucky said, like it was a complaint. 

“So you can get away from anyone who tries to capture you. It’s going to be ok.” Steve assured him. Bucky sighed, and snuggled closer into Steve’s side, tightening the arm around his waist.

The conversation was always the same. They had talked through Bucky’s fears enough times that the simple reminder was all he needed. It was comforting to hear Steve say the things that he knew deep down were true. The words helped hold him in reality, and ease his thoughts enough to go back to sleep. 

Steve was different after his own dreams. He was all sighs and apologetic half-smiles directed at Bucky, when he wasn’t glaring at something across the room. He rarely wanted to talk, but Bucky had a good enough idea of what was bothering him. Occasionally, he opened up. He was surviving, earning the privilege of living another day in this damn world. He couldn’t seem to stop surviving. It helped that it was no longer another day without Bucky, but not as much as he thought it should. With everything that he’d had been through, and the world still wouldn’t let him stop being Captain America. What was so wrong about just being Steve Rogers?

He would eventually walk out of the room without a word, to the home gym and punching bag they had built into the basement. The quadruple-reinforced bag had been specially designed for them. He wouldn't bother to tape his hands, would instead immediately begin wailing on the bag, oblivious to the knuckles that were splitting open, and healing, and then splitting again. Bucky had followed him a few times, watching from the shadows in the corner as Steve lost himself in the violence, until he was out of breath and both his knuckles and the bag were a sticky mess of blood and sweat. He would then slump down onto the floor, and sit with his head in his hands, perfectly still for a few minutes. Bucky would then slip away, back to their room, and wait for Steve to wash his hands, slide back into bed, and fall asleep wrapped around Bucky. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Bucky found himself in the corner of the yard every day the following week after first trying yoga with Scott, alternating between studying images of poses, examining diagrams from all different disciplines, and trying out the ones that grabbed his attention. 

He was focused on his leg being held out at the proper angle, and his arm keeping perfectly straight, instead of the things Hydra had forced him do with that arm. The arm that Tony had blasted off of him, and then later repaired and returned to him as a welcome home gift of sorts. He was focused on his breathing for reasons that had nothing to do with the trigger of a gun. He was thinking about his muscles in a new way, keeping flexed to hold a position and to make minute corrections, feeling a slight fatigue through his core that was different than when he was forced to use his muscles for brute force. While he may enjoy taking out his aggressions with a punching bag from time to time, it often made him think of all the things he had to be angry about, ultimately giving him the wrong result. 

It was a week before he mastered the first pose he had tried with Scott, having improved his flexibility enough while trying others. He barely wobbled as he smoothly lifted his leg, straight and higher than his head this time, hand properly holding his ankle. 

“This is how you do it,” he told Scott with a grin, holding the pose for about thirty seconds before letting his leg drop. Scott had randomly shown up at the house, again, and found Bucky in the backyard, trying to balance in some crazy, upside-down position. 

“Nice,” Scott replied. “So can you put your feet on your head yet?”

“No,” Bucky replied with a sigh, “still working on that one.” 

They went back and forth showing off poses they had been working on. Bucky had mastered three, and Scott fell over three more times trying to do his own. He did have a side plank pose down though, Bucky admitted, mostly. 

 

Steve was sitting by the back door, in the area that was eventually going to be a patio, reading about vegetable gardens. They had talked to a neighbor who had a massive garden taking up nearly half their yard for advice on how to get started, and had an area marked off to till once the ground was soft enough. His attention wavered between Bucky and Scott doing “yoga” and his book, occasionally impressed at a position Bucky had managed to contort himself into, balanced on his hands or elbows, the occasional leg pointing straight up into the air. He looked happier than Steve had seen him in a long time. And more relaxed. 

Eventually, Scott and Bucky wandered toward the house, yoga competition back on hold. Steve set his book down on the table next to him, and turned his attention to them. 

“Hey guys, looks like you’ve made some progress,” he greeted, as Bucky slipped into his lap with an arm around Steve’s shoulder.

“I have. I don’t know about him though,” he said, gesturing toward Scott. 

Scott just shrugged, looking awkward as he stood in the grass, noticing Steve and Bucky’s eyes meet as Steve stroked Bucky’s back. 

“I'm going to go,” Scott announced. “See you around,” and headed rather suddenly to the driveway, and presumably to wherever he lived. 

“Are you ready for today’s talk?” Steve asked once Scott was gone. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied with a nod “but let’s do it inside.”  
It was technically spring, but the sun would be setting soon, and it still got chilly after dark up in the mountains. 

The daily talk was another of Sam’s suggestions that they had incorporated in their daily routine. They had to share something with each other that had been on their mind recently, every day. A memory from their childhood in the 20s and 30’s one of them had remembered, or from living together in a tiny apartment and fucking as quietly as they could manage so the neighbors wouldn’t find out. Sometimes it was the bad things that kept them up at night, the nightmare fuel from the past, and the things they couldn’t seem to stop worrying about. Occasionally, they talked about getting married, still in awe that they actually could. 

They sat on the couch, angled toward each other with knees touching.  
“I’ve really liked seeing you happy lately,” Steve stated, starting the talk. “It helps make this feel more real, easier to believe that you are actually with me again.”

“I think I have been,” Bucky agreed quietly. 

“You were dead. I saw you fall and I believed that was it, you were gone forever,” Steve continued telling the familiar story. “I stopped caring once my mission was completed and gave up. I think Peggy was the only one who realized I didn’t want to survive when I crashed the Valkyrie. I was thinking about dancing with you, and going to be with you again”

Bucky just nodded, listening to Steve talk. It wasn’t the first time Steve had mentioned that he hadn’t cared about surviving. 

“And I know that I could have had a life with Peggy, that it would have made her happy, but she wasn’t you, no matter how much I truly cared about her,” Steve continued. 

“How do you feel about it now?” Bucky asked, with a hand resting on Steve’s knee. “About surviving?”

“A little better?” Steve replied, sounding a bit unsure. “Because I know you are real, and we can be happy again and have a life together again. It doesn’t erase the years I thought you were dead, though. When I thought I was alone.” 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, but Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand tightly. Existence confirmed. 

“I’m sorry I forgot about you, Steve. And for what I did to you,” Bucky said after a moment, taking control of the talk. “I remembered eventually how you just took it. How you just submitted and let me beat you. And I just looked right through you, saying you were just my mission, nothing else.”

Bucky paused for a moment, looking up at Steve, but Steve was still looking down at their hands. 

“That must have been worse than seeing me fall.” Bucky continued, speaking quieter. “And out of everything that Hydra did to me, that's the thing i'm angriest about. Not the abuse, or mind control, or anything else inhumane about the whole thing, but that they took you away from me. I didn’t get to remember anything about you. And they used that to hurt you, in the most personal way possible.”

Steve relaxed his grip on Bucky’s hand and looked up. 

“There were times when I could have escaped, but I never knew where to go, or to who. If I had remembered you, I would have remembered home to escape toward.” 

“That wasn’t your fault, Bucky, you know that…” Steve told him

“I know, I know. Everyone keeps saying that,” Bucky interrupted. “Not my fault. Hydra made me do it. I wasn’t in control of my brain. I wasn’t a real person.” 

“Come on Buck, don’t go there…” Steve warned. 

“Why not?” Bucky asked, pulling his hand away from Steve. “You know it’s true. They took away everything about me, my memories, my name, my whole past, and just let me remember how to fight. The only new memories I was allowed were the ones that made me a more efficient murderer. They kept me frozen when I wasn’t needed, hosed me off and gave me a protein shake when I was… What part of that made me a real person?” Bucky asked, getting louder and louder until he was nearly yelling. He then sighed and looked down at his lap, hair falling to hide his face. 

“You were still you though, deep down,” Steve reminded, trying to hide how annoyed he was getting with Bucky’s attitude. 

“Whole lotta good that did me, when I was frozen,” Bucky mumbled. “Hell, you were still you too, down in the ice, and that didn’t change that you were stuck there 70 years.”

Steve just nodded, realizing that there would be no winner in this argument, and they were supposed to be talking, not fighting.

“Now though,” Steve began, trying to change the topic, “we are here, together, still surviving, fully thawed and no longer under anyone else's control. You are not a weapon for the enemy, and I am not a puppet doing propaganda for the war effort.”

It was Bucky’s turn to nod at that, lifting his head and looking at Steve again. 

“It was good to see you happy today,” Steve said, going back to how he had started the talk. “It reminded me that there’s a good reason to keep surviving.”

The talk was over, and after another moment they got up and headed to the kitchen in search of dinner. 

\-------------------------------------

Bucky was in the yard again, balancing on his hands as he continued to try to master The Pose. It had become important to him, something that was his. He was training his body to do something difficult, and it wasn’t because someone had ordered him to, but because he chose to. That made it important. 

He had developed a routine for himself, back in the corner. He was learning to enjoy the quiet, and found the rustling of leaves and occasional bird sounds from the mountain comforting. He slowly moved through the ten or so poses he had starting thinking of as his warm up, focusing on slow and even breathing as he felt his body begin to relax. He finished lying flat on his back, mind as blank as it was ever going to get as he stared up at the sky and the tree branches, noticing small green buds starting to form. 

Bucky stood, and took a deep breath as he stretched his arms over his head and paused a moment, tilting his head back, and then planted his hands to the ground and kicked his feet up, balancing into a handstand. That was the easy part, balancing with his legs straight above him. He held the pose for a moment, focused on his breathing as he settled into a new center of gravity, and then slowly, carefully, began bending his knees, feet inching toward his head. He got his knees bent at a 90-degree angle, and wobbled slightly, splayed hands grabbing at the ground to check his balance, and then paused again, just breathing. He pushed his legs further, arching his back and tilting his hips, straining to reach his toes to his head, and managing to just touch one big toe for half a second before toppling to the side, breathing heavily. He was so close.

Bucky sat in the grass for a moment, sitting up into a cross-legged position, calming his breathing and trying not to feel disappointed in himself, or like a failure for still not mastering The Pose after weeks of practice. Eventually, he stood and walked to the house to find Steve.

“... I can’t wait for you too see all the plans we have for the yard. It will be good to see you again,” Steve said as Bucky entered the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone.

“Yeah. For real, Tony, we’re going to build a vegetable garden,” he said with a sigh, following a pause as Tony spoke. 

“No,” he laughed, “I promise we won’t make you help this weekend, I wouldn’t expect you to be useful when it comes to yard work anyway.” 

“Ok, yeah, sounds good. We’ll see you in a few days then. Maybe we can finally play that tabletop game Vision and I have been talking about.”

“Bye, Tony,” Steve finally said, hanging up the phone with a lingering smile. 

Bucky stood in the corner, by the kitchen door, smiling to himself as he watched Steve on the phone with Tony. Steve had looked relaxed while they were chatting, grinning at the jokes he was sure Tony had made about them gardening. Steve looked like he was actually looking forward to something, and that was still a new thing for him.

Steve and Tony might have had their differences, and they might have created drama that nearly tore the Avengers apart, but they had never stopped being friends, not really. It was a few months after Bucky had gone back into Cryo in Wakanda, and Steve had moved his sparse belongings into the house in the mountains, when Tony showed up. He had brought Bucky’s arm, repaired and ready to be reattached when he woke up, and an apology. They had sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of whisky, talking for hours as Tony got drunk and they began to repair their relationship. It was nearly 2am when Tony passed out with his head on the table, and Steve carried him to the guest room and tucked him into bed. 

“Hey, babe,” Bucky said after a moment, snapping Steve out of a daydream. He walked over with his arms out, pulling Steve into a hug, nosing at his neck with a sigh as Steve pulled him tighter. 

 

“I love you, Stevie” Bucky said, angling his head to whisper into Steve’s ear.

“I love you too, pal.” Steve replied, voice just above a whisper.

They didn’t need a reason to say it, or to hug like that, and it was still new for both of them. 

Bucky pulled away first, looking up at Steve for a quick kiss on his lips before slipping out of his arms and heading to the fridge for a glass of juice. 

“Talk time?” Steve asked once Bucky had taken a long sip.  
“Why not,” Bucky replied with a shrug, and followed Steve into the living room to sit on the couch, angled slightly toward each other with knees touching. 

“Talk to me about yoga,” Steve prompted. “I want to understand how it makes you so happy.”

“It’s kinda hard to explain,” Bucky began hesitantly. “It’s challenging physically, but not like the training or missions handlers sent me on. I’m using my body in a way that’s completely different from when I used it to hurt people, and no one is forcing me to do it.”

“It confirms that you are your own person?” Steve suggested once Bucky had gone silent, appearing to be lost in thought. 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed “I guess that sounds right. And it forces me to stay calm, and relaxed. If I get too angry or distracted I can’t balance right.”

“I can stop thinking about all of them for a little while,” Bucky continued after a moment, voice trembling slightly. 

Steve just nodded, understanding the ‘them’ to mean all the people he had assassinated as the Winter Soldier. 

“It’s ok, you know,” Steve assured him. “You are allowed to forget those things sometimes and take back your life.”

Bucky just nodded at the statement, another comforting reminder that Steve would often repeat.

“I like seeing you happy too, and relaxed,” Bucky said after a quiet moment. “I liked seeing you smiling when you were on the phone, and how you are excited about the future again, and seeing our friends and our garden.”

Steve blushed slightly, smiling at Bucky. 

“I guess I finally have something worth being excited about,” he said. “I came here to hide from the world, and instead I’m becoming part of it again. I’m starting to like our quiet little life here more than I ever imagined I would.”

Bucky smiled back, gently pushing Steve to lean back on the couch and curled up against him, leg draped across his lap and head on his chest. “I like our quiet life here, too,” Bucky admitted. “Thanks for finding us this place.”

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around Bucky, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. They stayed like that for a while, sitting in silence and enjoying each others touch, soothed by each others presence, and starting to believe that it might all work out okay in the end. 

\-----------------------------

Vision stood at the head of the table, notebook in hand, as he waited impatiently for the rest of the group to settle down. 

“Tonight’s campaign will take us into one of Hydra’s newly discovered research facilities, where we have received word that experiments are being performed on humans, testing the influence the infinity stone has on them. Reports include sightings of multiple busses entering, filled with individuals assumed to be prisoners, and leaving empty. Civilians living in close proximity have reported hearing screaming at all hours of the day and night, and have reported multiple disruptions to the power grid.” Vision began, setting up the scene for the role playing game. 

“Hold up,” Tony interrupted, “we haven’t rolled for skills yet. You can't just jump right in like that, we need to create our characters first.”

“Your character is Iron Man, Tony,” Sam explained, “your skills are the same as what you can actually do as Iron Man.” 

“So I’m roleplaying myself, doing exactly what I can actually do for real? Where's the fun in that?” Tony argued.

“Yeah,” Bucky cut in. “Maybe I want Winter Soldier to be able to fly. I’m rolling to see if I can fly,” he announced, reaching for the die. 

“Sorry, Bucky, but if you want the Winter Soldier to be able to fly, you are going to have to ask someone to throw you and hope for the best,” Sam told him, already sounding frustrated. “Ironman would probably agree to it.”

“Falcon can fly too,” Bucky suggested, “Will Falcon fly Winter Soldier around during the battle? He wants to get a bird's eye view.” 

“No,” Sam answered firmly. “But if Winter Soldier behaves, Falcon might agree to catch him later if someone else agrees to help him fly.”

“Come on, guys,” Steve said with a sigh, “let's get back to the game. Vision, please continue.”

“I would be glad to, Captain,” Vision replied. “The facility is located in an industrial area, at the outskirts of the city. To the north there is a river, 50 yards from the fence surrounding the facility, 100 yards to the east is a highway which crosses over the river with a large bridge. To the south and east there are various factory and warehouse buildings in active use. All of the factories have 3 shifts, and there is rarely any civilian activity in the area when shift changes are not occurring.”

Vision paused, looking around at the group, pleased to see that everyone was still paying attention before continuing. “Reports from workers in neighboring factories state that the majority of the screaming and power fluctuations occur between 0200 and 0500 hours. During daylight hours, trucks have been observed delivering large quantities of steel, glass and medical supplies, however nothing has been exported. All trucks come and go through a large metal gate, and must pass through a checkpoint that is manned at all times. The remainder of the perimeter is comprised of a 20 ft tall, concrete wall with no gaps. SHIELD has requested a stealth operation to obtain further information on the experiments and their potential threat.”

“So I turn into Giant Man and kick down the gate,” Scott announced. “Vision, roll to see if Giant Man is successful.” 

“No way,” Bucky replied, “That's a terrible plan, and besides, it’s not your turn. ”

“He’s right,” Sam agreed. Bucky shot him a surprised look and Sam just shrugged it off. “There’s nothing stealth about Giant Man, ever, so it’s terrible.”

“So instead, Ironman flies Winter Soldier over the wall, and I sneak past the guards into the building,” Bucky suggested.

“Right, cause no one would notice Ironman flying up and throwing someone over a 20 ft wall.” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. 

Natasha just sighed, and continued filing her nails.

“I said fly over, and put me down on the other side” Bucky argued.

 

“Nah, that wouldn’t happen.” Tony explained. “Ironman may agree to throwing you over the wall though. And it's not your turn either.”

“It is currently the captain’s turn,” Vision explained, “So if we could please get on with it.”

Steve, the only one who seemed to be taking the game seriously, looked up at vision in anticipation. 

“Captain, how do you wish to enter the facility?” Vision asked

“What intel do we have regarding the trucks making deliveries?” Steve asked. 

“There have been 4 different trucks, all with plain white trailers, and the plates have been registered to a local freight company. Most come from a steel refinery about 20 miles away, and always enter the facility between 1100 and 1400 hours. On average, 2 trucks enter the facility each day.” Vision answered.

“Ok, does the route from the refinery pass through any forested areas?” Steve asked, thinking deeply about the scenario. 

“Roll for a perception check,” Vision requested. Steve picked up the single 10 sided die they were using for the game, and rolled a 9.

“A perception check?” Scott asked. 

“Too see how much additional information the Captain is privy to.” Vision explained calmly. “The higher you roll, the more you are allowed to know.”

“Oh my god, man. Just say you want to hide behind a tree and then hijack a truck,” Bucky interrupted. “Obviously that's the plan.” 

Natasha glanced up from her nails with a smirk. 

“Fine, Black Widow and I hide in the trees while Scarlet Witch makes the driver believe there was an accident and his help is needed, convincing him to get out of the truck.” Steve answers. 

Vision rolls a seven. “It takes a bit more convincing than hoped for, but the driver stops the truck and gets out. He is alone.” Steve nods, seemingly happy with the result. “Natasha, It's your turn next, what do you do?

“Obviously I punch the driver until he agrees to take a nap, and then Steve moves him into the woods to hide the body,” she replies, sounding bored. 

“Hey, wait a minute,” Bucky interrupts, again. “What are the rest of us doing while you three are stealing the truck?”

“Can I be ant sized for this part?” Scott asked, “I can be hiding in Natasha’s… um… do you have any pockets?” He looked at her hopefully.  
“I do have pockets,” Natasha replied. “They’re where I keep my ant poison.” 

“But seriously, what are the rest of us doing?” Tony asked, actually sounding interested.

Steve just groaned, resting his head in his hand. This was turning out to be a terrible idea.  
“The rest of you idiots are hiding somewhere else, far away so you can’t mess everything up. Maybe we’ll forget about you until the mission is over.” He glared at them all for a moment, and then turned back to look at Vision. “Please roll to see if Black Widow successfully knocks out the driver.” 

Natasha looked offended and crossed her arms, glaring at Vision and Steve, and Wanda just looked amused by the whole situation, even though she hadn’t actually participated yet. 

Vision rolled a 2, and then a 4, and then finally a 10 before declaring the 10 to be the official roll, and announcing that the guard was subdued and hidden. They continued on, and made their way slowly through the scenario until their characters were inside the facility. Steve had eventually agreed to allow Falcon, Ironman, Ant Man and Winter Soldier to join the party as long has they promised to behave.

After decommissioning a dozen guards just inside the building, Black Widow made it into an office and hacked into the security system, disabling all the cameras. It would allow them to make it down the hall to the server room unseen before any guards on foot were likely to come investigate. 

The party easily made it to the server room, where Ironman and Black widow were able to hack into the system and find data on all the prisoners that were being held, as well as all the experiments, and with Friday’s help, they copied the data to SHIELD databases and then erased the servers. Meanwhile, the rest of the party had gone on to free the prisoners. 

Vision announced that two guards had entered the server room.

Natasha announced she would use her widow bites, along with a punch to the face to stun a guard that they had encountered, and sighed deeply before leaning back to resume examining her nails. 

“All this talk about punching people is making me actually want to punch people,” she announced.

“Same here,” Bucky agreed, putting the piece of paper he had been folding, and unfolding for while on the table. “Wanna go out back and spar?”

“Sounds perfect,” Natasha replied, standing up from the table.

“Seriously guys?” Steve asked, looking slightly hurt. “Were not done the game here.”

“Yeah, I know, babe, but we’ve been playing for over an hour,” Bucky replied, frowning slightly. “I didn’t think it would take this long.”

Sam, who had been half asleep with his head on his hand and elbow on the table, nodded in agreement. “Sorry, man, but I’m kind of bored too.” 

“It’s alright, guys,” Steve said, sounding a little disappointed. “Thanks for giving it a try.”

“I guess we’re just not the sitting around talking type,” Sam said, standing to head outside as well. 

Tony, Steve and Vision were the only ones left at the table after most of the group went out to the backyard. 

“You know,” Tony stated, “They lasted longer than I expected. My money was on the sparring starting in here.”

“I wouldn’t have bet against that,” Steve replied. 

 

Tony, Steve and Vision went out to the back patio, and were not at all surprised to find the backyard in chaos. Natasha had Scott easily pinned down (dude was useless without the Antman suit), Bucky was in a tree wielding a nerf gun, and Sam was threatening to put on the wings and drag him down if he didn’t start playing fair.

Steve walked out into the middle of it, rolling his eyes at his friends before looking up at Bucky.

“The tree again?” Steve called out. “You’re starting to get predictable, Buck.”

“Am I?” Bucky yelled back, raising an eyebrow. 

Suddenly, he turned the gun on Sam and then Tony in quick succession, hitting them each squarely in the chest with a rubber nerf ball, and then lept down out of the tree hitting Natasha with a mid-air shot. Scott was next, and then Wanda, and then before Steve could fully comprehend what was happening, Bucky was striding toward him, serious eyes locked on his. And then Steve was tackled to the ground, and Bucky was holding him down and grinning. 

“Is that what you predicted I would do?” Bucky asked. 

“Close enough,” Steve replied with a shrug. 

“You gotta stop taunting him like that, man,” Sam complained, rubbing his chest with a groan. “We end up hurt, and you get to have sex as soon as we leave, I assume. It’s not fair.”

Scott groaned in agreement, while Tony, Natasha and Wanda glared at Steve and Bucky. 

Bucky winked at Sam, with a slow nod, giving him more of an answer than Sam wanted to know about.

They stayed sprawled out across the lawn, chatting idly about summer plans, and catching up on everyone’s daily lives. Steve explained the areas they had planned out for the garden and patio and other landscaping ideas. Bucky interrupted to announce that he had been thinking about chickens and building a chicken coop, gaining a confused look, and then a resigned sigh, from Steve who had heard nothing about chickens before that point. Apparently they were getting chickens now.

“Hey Bucky!” Scott yelled from across the yard. “Did you master that pose yet?”

O“I came really close the other day,” Bucky called back, “but I think I can get it today”

He untangled himself from Steve, and walked over to the middle of the yard, rolling his shoulders as he went. 

“Just give me a minute,” Bucky said, looking over at Scott. 

He started going through a few simple poses, loosening up and stretching a little, and Steve recognized it as a shortened version of his normal warm up routine. 

“What am I even looking at right now?” Tony asked, looking thoroughly confused as he watched Bucky.

“He appears to be doing yoga, Sir,” Vision answered, “Though I cannot connect the poses he is doing to any one specific discipline.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because Bucky and Scott invented their own version,” Steve explained with a laugh. “They just find cool poses on google and instagram and try to copy them. I’m pretty sure Bucky is about to win.”

“Win?” Tony questioned. “You can’t win at yoga, Rogers.”

“I know that, but don’t tell them,” Steve shrugged. “It’s been entertaining to watch them try.”

Eventually, Bucky stood and stretched his arms over his head, taking a slow, deep breath and then kicked his legs up over his head into a handstand, breathing out as he steadied his center of balance. Slowly, he arched his back, bent his knees, and lifted his chin so he was looking at his fingers, pausing for a deep breath and balance check a few times as he went. Finally, his the balls of his feet were firmly pressed to his head, his balance was steady, and Bucky was grinning. He held the pose for a long moment before smoothly straightening his legs over his head again, and then lowered his feet back to the ground to stand again. 

“I told you I could do it,” he said with a smirk, looking toward Scott. “Your turn.”

Scott just sighed, looking down at the ground.

“I still can’t do mine,” he eventually admitted.

“No?” Bucky replied, mocking him slightly. “But I thought you were going to master yours first. Isn’t that what you said.”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, “you win this round.”

“Did you hear that, babe?” Bucky called over to Steve. “I’m the round one yoga champion!”

“Congratulations, Buck,” Steve called back. “I’m proud of you.”

And he was. And of himself. And proud of all of them really. None of them had ever had it easy, having been trained to kill from a young age, or brainwashed to be an efficient weapon and feared assassin like Bucky or Natasha, or had been experimented on like Wanda, or held captive and tortured like Tony, and like Bucky again, or had seen a loved one die right in front of them, like Sam, or himself. They all had shit to deal with. Shit that they had made it through, and were continuing to live on after, finally taking control of their lives. 

He smiled as he watched Scott demonstrate an easier pose he had mastered, after admitting it didn’t officially count since it wasn’t the one he had chosen at the start. Everyone watched as he stretched a leg up behind him, holding his foot above his head in an archer pose, and seemed honestly impressed with his efforts. 

Their pasts may be permanent, but their futures were their own to shape. And finally, for them, The Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes, the future was looking pretty damn good.


End file.
